Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

With new management, comes the turning of a new leaf.

Now being the head of an entire mafia organization, this was one of the first things Giorno Giovanna thought about when he was given that power.

That’s what he told the mafiosos closest to him.

His predecessor had left a mark on La Passione, in ways that still lingered in members who were loyal to the previous boss, but the young Don was not deterred.

A new boss required a new change in space. New headquarters.

Leone Abbacchio understood this and begrudgingly held some respect for the young Don because of it. Their success in defeating the previous boss had come with its hardships and dangers, sweat and tears. Such a victory sent ripples of change and shock through the entire family tree of La Passione, and many were already enthusiastic to see the new Don in action. Despite this, those who still held allegiance to the old boss could very well start upheaval, making it harder for Giorno to spread his power.

Changing the scenery for the mafiosos working under the Don made for an extremely efficient deterrence.

He had to give the young man that; He was smart.

Abbacchio had always been a man to look back on the past. Perhaps that is why his stand was the way it was. But looking back at that time, when Giorno first came into the picture, spouting off about change and dreams, he never thought that he would get to where he was now.

The long-haired man concealed a smile as he heard the sound of laughter and echoing footsteps coming from the large hall beside him. Mista and Narancia were having the time of their lives exploring the halls of one of the newest house showings that they visited that day.

Giorno and Bucciarati had stuck beside the private realtor for most of the day as the new Don weighed his options on where their new headquarters was to be located.

Abbacchio hadn’t the patience to house shop, but he was silently thankful that it occupied the rest of the gang. His family.

Bucciarati looked like a proud mother, secretly finding the whole state of affairs a good change of pace; almost domestic.

It was nice, considering all the horrors they witnessed, and all the near-death experiences they faced.

But things felt brighter, even though Abbacchio felt corny as he thought about it in his mind.

There were already new faces too.

Speaking of…

Turning to his right, the older mafioso found the newest member of their gang standing quietly next to Trisha as they admired a large oil painting.

(F/N)(L/N) had come from hardships of her own, finding herself in a foreign country with nothing but the clothes on her back, and her stand to protect her. Like many who turned to La Passione, the world hadn’t been kind to her, not as kind as she was to others.

When she joined the crew, not long after the the previous boss was defeated, Abbacchio of course had his reservations. He had always been one to harbor some skepticism toward anybody or thing that was introduced to his family, as they meant so dearly to him. Giorno had borne the brunt of that hostility in the past, so when (Y/N) came into the picture, many were surprised at the rate at which Abbacchio warmed up to her.

It was music at first, where they connected.

Music is a universal language, and it opened Abbacchio’s seemingly rigid social shell to her.

When he got to know more about (Y/N), it didn’t take much for him to admire her as a colleague and as a friend.

There was unrelenting loyalty, kindness, and compassion within her; something that came in stark contrast to her fighting abilities against her enemies.

Abbacchio would never have guessed someone like her would end up being a mafioso like him, but thinking of where he came from, he wasn’t really in a position to judge.

His piercing gaze shot to her back when she let out a laugh. It echoed in the large hall, a sound almost reminiscent of a melody. Abbacchio swallowed thickly.

Gently pressing his hand to his exposed chest, he quietly wondered why her laugh made his heart start to ache.

“Hey, Abbacchio! Quit standing around and come look at the rooms with us!” He could hear Narancia call for him across the hallway next to (Y/N) and Trisha. The man blinked, sort of stunned as the younger mafioso's boisterous voice melted his thoughts away.

He could see (Y/N) offer the older man a soft smile, her eyes holding sympathy in them as she knew Abbacchio generally kept to himself.

The man shook his head, offering her something close to a smile.

When Abbacchio finally drifted his way into the bedroom Narancia was babbling about, he had to strain his eyes. The room was completely white, apart from the very expensive-looking gold trim that decorated the corners of the walls and on display furniture. In a corner of the room was an elegant cream-colored wing chair that was decorated with sewn-on gold flowers set with a minimal side table. He could see the two women lingering in that area, Trisha sitting on the chair as (Y/N) sat on the arm while they chatted. There was also a long drawer pressed against the wall with a television bolted above it. There were two large windows, draped in sheer curtains that just barely dulled the bright sun raze outside.

The most prominent piece of the bedroom had to be the bed itself. Watching with mild amusement as Narancia and Mista playfully bounced on the bed, Abbacchio couldn’t help but notice how soft the bed was. It looked decently sized and the comforter and pillows on the bed made it look like clouds.

As far as Abbacchio was aware, this was only one of the multiple bedrooms the mansion had, which was a bit alarming to him. He felt weariness tug at him just thinking about how expensive this whole place was.

He shrugged half-heartedly. Well, it wasn’t his money.

“Where’s Bucciarati and G--the boss?” Abbacchio asked, cringing slightly as he corrected himself.

Mista, who had been laying on the bed, body smothered in fluffy white sheets sat up, laughing at the older man. With his colored mouth curled in a scowl and his arms crossed in a defiant position, Abbacchio looked no less than a child.

“They’re talking to the house agent lady--“

“The realtor?” Trisha interjected.

Mista stuck his tongue out at her.

“Anyways, they’re talking to the reaaaaltor, because the boss likes the place. It might be our new HQ.” The gunslinger grinned, stealing a glance at Narancia who also sat up.

“Yep. If they do decide they want this house,” Narancia yawned, “that means there’s going to be a lot of paperwork and Narancia no likey.”

Abbacchio nodded absentmindedly, darting his careful eyes from the men in front of him to (Y/N) who got up from the arm of the chair. She offered Abbacchio another kind smile as she walked over to pass him, curiosity taking over her at the sight of a closed door next to the one they all entered.

The man followed her form and found his sight on the door, slightly surprised he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Did anyone peek in here yet?” She asked, throwing her gaze over her shoulder at the others, everyone’s attention now focused on the door.

“I don’t think anyone did yet,” Mista nodded toward the handle with his chin, “Open it, (Y/N).”

When the mafioso opened the door, she let out a pleasant sigh, reaching her hand up to grasp the beaded string for the overhead light. With a click, the light revealed a tiny walk-in closet, empty apart from left-behind hangers that hung on the wooden bar above her. There was also a shelf above the bar, meant to hold boxes, shoes, or other miscellaneous items.

“Ooh, a walk-in closet!” Trisha smiled, lifting herself from her seat as she walked toward the other woman, her intrigue peaked.

“Of course, this would interest you,” (Y/N) teased, stepping aside to let the pink-haired woman peek inside.

“Hey, anything that has to do with fashion or shoes interests me,” She stated as she scanned the small closet, pursing her lips in a pout as she took in its size, “But this closet is too small for me.”

(Y/N) shook her head.

“Insatiable.”

Trisha was about to give (Y/N) a playful retort as the woman entered the closet, reaching her hands to place them on either side of the walls. While her arms were slightly bent, the closet itself nearly had the entire width of her wingspan. As for height, to her, the closet was decently tall. (Y/N) smiled at the other woman as she looked around the closet from inside.

“It’s not so bad here. Pretty roomy.” She giggled.

“Pretty roomy to live in!” Narancia suddenly shouted from behind Trisha, reaching over her to grasp the door. Before (Y/N) could even breathe the closet door was slammed shut, leaving her stunned and confused.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Trisha snapped as she watched the dark-haired mafioso hold the door. From behind the wooden door, she could hear (Y/N’s) muffled laughter.

That laughter may appear like she was playing it off, but Trisha knew (Y/N) enough to hear the slight tinge of nervousness laced in the sound.

She wasn’t the only one to notice.

“Open the damn door now, Narancia.” Abbacchio was next to interject, a heated defensiveness he was displaying leaving the younger mafioso in a cold sweat. When he saw the taller mafioso step closer, Narancia put up a hand.

“Hey, hey! I’m--I’m just playing around. Seven minutes in Heaven!” Narancia tried to reason, holding the remnants of his playful banter just by a string.

In his defense, truly, he didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable. He was just messing around, in ways only he knew best.

“Someone’s supposed to be in there with her, dumbass.” Abbacchio hissed, and it was clear Narancia would be dead if he didn’t do something.

“O-Of course--“ Narancia stuttered, pulling the door open quickly. He stepped back as the other man took quick strides forward to help the woman out.

The next move Narancia made would go down as the most ingenious, or batshit stupid idea he ever had.

“You can join her!” He cackled, shoving his shoulder against the older mafioso, making him stumble into the closet with (Y/N).

Abbacchio grunted, hearing (Y/N) squeal as he crashed into her arms.

When the door shut, the man’s face grew hot with embarrassment and anger. As he shuffled and adjusted against (Y/N’s) body in the now uncomfortably tight closet, he slammed his fist on the door.

“Open the fucking door!” Abbacchio’s shout was muffled against the door and under Narancia’s oblivious laughter.

Trisha and Mista stared at him incredulously, blatant fear in their eyes for the young man. As he died down from the remainder of his giggles, Narancia pulled his body weight off the door and tugged, completely unaware of the death sentence he had just placed upon himself.

But nothing happened.

His laughter stopped, and as Abbacchio’s words began to tune out, he kept trying to pull the door open.

“Open the door now, Narancia!” Abbacchio yelled, sparing a cautious glance behind his back to (Y/N). She was trying to make herself small, attempting to avoid even touching the man any more than she already had. He could see that her face was hot with embarrassment and he could only feel terrible.

Abbacchio took a breath in through his nose.

He had to calm down. Deep down he knew Narancia was just joking around and being an average seventeen-year-old boy. He didn’t have the maturity sometimes to read rooms properly and sometimes his jokes were too much.

It would probably make things worse for them both if he continued to lose his cool.

“Narancia…open the door,” Abbacchio muttered lowly, pressing his forehead against the door.

He could hear Narancia struggling from the other side.

“I-I can’t! The door is jammed!

At this point, Mista and Trisha were at his side, taking turns to attempt to open the jammed door, arguing with each other in the process.

Abbacchio wanted to scream.

Chapter Text

It was clear after five minutes that the door was definitely stuck.

After some deliberation--and arguing--between the three younger mafiosos, it was decided they would go find Bucciarati and the boss for help.

Great. Just great.

As soon as he could hear their footsteps disappear, Abbacchio already regretted sending all three of them off for help, despite their weak reassurances.

Them leaving meant he would be utterly alone with (Y/N) who now, after uncomfortable and awkward shuffling to switch positions, had her back pressed against his tense stomach as they waited.

He wished that one of them would gather the courage to speak, as the deafening silence only amplified his racing thoughts and worries. With his hands pressed firmly on the door, his breath felt ragged as he tried not to think about (Y/N) and the dangerous proximity between them.

She was so close to him that the scent of her perfume was invading his nose and clouding his senses. No kind of denial could hide the way his body yearned for her and her touch. Even from her smell, he was hooked.

(Y/N) continued to squirm uncomfortably, only driving him further from his sanity.

He could already feel his body reacting to the minuscule touch she gave him, and it made him feel ashamed. She was way too close and feelings were way too complicated for him to worry about.

“(Y/N), stop squirming," He grunted, shielding his reddened cheeks with a curtain of his long hair as the woman made a noise of discomfort.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just cramped in here,” She huffed out a half-lie, trying aimlessly to press her chest further into the door to give the man more space. It was no use, however, as she could literally feel the heat of his skin radiating through his dark clothes onto each point of their contact.

He was so warm it was nearly alarming, and with every second that passed between them, the faster (Y/N's) heart raced.

“J-Just give me some space,” He strained, feeling his shoulder blades dig into the wall where his back was pushed against.

(Y/N) shuffled.

“I’m trying Abbacchio. I’m sorry.”

The woman held back a sigh as she slipped her eyes shut. Her body felt like it was in a frenzy, her heart elevated and her body moving on its own accord. From the scent of his skin to the rumble of his chest she could feel against her back as he spoke, (Y/N) could feel arousal and desire pool into her core relentlessly.

She knew she was in trouble the moment Abbacchio fell into the closet with her, even more so when the three others left to find aid. She admired him as a fellow mafioso and as a friend. While she’d be reluctant to say there was more to that, she would be equally surprised to find that the man felt the same toward her.

“Stop apologizing.” Abbacchio groaned, gulping as a cold bead of sweat trailed down his forehead and onto his furrowed brow. With every move (Y/N) made to find a better spot to be, the more her entire body pressed up against his form, setting his body ablaze. A closet of such proportions holding two people, especially if one of them was of Abbacchio’s height and size, leaving only minimal room to twist and turn without stepping on a foot or gripping an arm for stability. Even with the light overhead, areas of the closet were still dim to the point where one had to blindly search to reach certain spaces. Abbacchio could feel the woman’s hands drifting, grabbing whatever she could feel to help her navigate her movements. Since it was dim, (Y/N) actively grabbed onto his wrists and touched his chest, blissfully ignorant to the ways her touch sent sparks of electricity under his skin.

When (Y/N) finally stopped moving, Abbacchio felt like he could actually take a breath and think.

As he zoned in his stare to the door in front of him, he silently gathered the facts in his head.

Firstly, there was no telling how long or quickly Narancia, Mista, and Trisha would be until they returned with Bucciarati and the boss. If Bucciarati arrived, simply summoning his Sticky Fingers would get them out of this mess just as quickly as they got in it.

Secondly, there was no way they could wait without touching each other since it was physically impossible not to. The best thing they would have to do is reduce touching each other to eliminate as much awkwardness and certain feelings as possible.

As Abbacchio opened his mouth to openly discuss his thoughts with her, she moved once again, this time pressing her ass hard against his crotch. Stiflingly a groan, the man let out a noise of frustration.

“You keep doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” He growled, lowering his gaze to meet (Y/N’s) as she twisted her head to look up at him. She can see an almost predatory look in that piercing gaze of his, sending shivers up and down her spine and riddling her skin with goosebumps.

“N-No, I didn’t mean it, I swear!” The woman squeaked.

“I’m trying to focus and you just keep moving!”

“I’m sorry!”

Abbacchio felt his nails dig into the wood.

“I said don’t apologize, just stop moving. You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you.”

(Y/N) blinked at him confusedly, pressing her smaller hands onto the door for leverage. She craned her neck higher to scan his face fully.

“What? Why are you apologizing? You didn’t get us stuck in the closet.” She replied.

She saw Abbacchio’s expression sour, his colored lips pursing for a moment, emphasizing the shape of his mouth. In his eyes, she could see a bit of truth that he seemed to want to hide.

“I’m apologizing because…I’m disgusting.” He whispered, daring to meet her gaze only a moment before turning his head to stare at the wall to his left.

(Y/N) frowned at his choice of words, knowing from her fellow mafiosos and Abbacchio himself that sometimes he was very…self-critical. While there was no denying he was a man with flaws, he had also grown from those flaws. He was loyal to a tee, never forgot a name, and was surprisingly the best listener both in music and talking, just to name a few. Those were qualities not everyone had, so it made the woman sad to hear him talk that way. She nodded, however, urging him to continue.

She could see him just trying to find the right words.

“I shouldn’t be getting upset at you. You keep moving because you’re uncomfortable and I…” Abbacchio paused, turning to face her once again. The flush dusting his pale cheeks was bright red as she gave him her full attention, her mouth slightly opened as she stared up at him.

“The way you’re pressing up against me,” The man shivered as he spoke, “does things to me.”

(Y/N) wasn’t so oblivious that she couldn’t immediately recognize what he meant when he spoke. Now evaluating her actions up to this point, she felt horrible knowing she had added unjust discomfort to him, whether he chose to see it that way or not. She also felt a jolt of excitement shoot through her nerves and to her core, making her throb with want.

She made him aroused, and upon this realization finally took notice of the firmness pressed against her asscheek from behind her skirt.

“I-I’m sorry, (Y/N)--I…I’m just gonna stop.” Abbacchio muttered, beginning to cave in on himself like he was shrinking right before her.

“I…I get it if you don’t want to be friends anymore after this. Again, I’m sorry,” Abbacchio sighed, his resolve already setting itself in his chest.

“The sooner they come back, the sooner I can leave you alone.”

The room fell deaf once again apart from their breathing and thrumming heartbeats.

In the silence, with his eyes shut to avoid the sting of tears, he wondered if her silence was a blessing or a curse. Would he rather her scream at him and call him all the things he thought about himself, or say nothing at all? Either way, he didn’t foresee a way out of embarrassment and heartbreak. He could only guess and assume what was going through her mind then, until he could feel her fingers gently grasp his jaw, tickling him as each nimble digit danced against his cheek. Abbacchio felt his breath catch when that same hand pulled his face lower to meet her, and when their lips touched he couldn’t stop himself from groaning into the kiss.

(Y/N) could feel the man shaking from exhilaration and fear as she tentatively tilted her head to deepen the kiss, humming softly as she did so. The man followed her movement with no strain, melding into her touch easily. When she pulled away from the kiss she could still feel his breath puff against her mouth, their noses bumping together as they took in their tastes.

“What happened to no apologies?” She teased, her voice rasped from the kiss.

The man huffed out a tiny chuckle, finding his calloused fingers sliding from the door to find new homes at the apex where her thighs met her hips. With new-found confidence from (Y/N’s) gesture, Abbacchio squeezed the woman’s soft curves, earning a satisfied hum from her.

“I kept moving…because you were doing things to me too Abbacchio,” (Y/N) revealed almost shyly, purposely rolling her hips into the man’s crotch to prove her point. Abbacchio let out a soft groan into her ear as he pressed his face into her hair.

“I couldn’t act right with you so close.”

Feeling the slick of her arousal pool in her panties under her skirt, the woman continued to grind her ass against the man, reaching her hands out to grab his own, urging his touch everywhere.

“So please,” She whined, leaning her head back against his chest that thrummed with excitement.

“Touch me.”

Abbacchio shuddered, feeling his eyes roll back as he shut them, lolling his head low to press open-mouth kisses to her exposed shoulder. The taste of her skin was already addicting, nearly as much as the sounds she was making because of his kisses.

(Y/N) sighed out his name, now pushing herself into his body instead of fighting against it. She could feel his stomach flex against her back as his hips naturally rolled against her, his erection straining harder against his pants.

He let out a low whine, feeling up the woman’s soft tummy until his fingers dipped under the hem of her blouse. Abbacchio could feel her tense and shiver as his rough fingers slid their way higher, curiously tracing the lace on her bra. The man continued to kiss her skin, leaving dark waxy marks in his wake as his hand continued to explore. As his fingers slid against the edge of (Y/N’s) bra he pulled her breast out of the undergarments, giving her mound a soft squeeze.

“So soft,” He cooed, letting his teeth graze the muscle of her neck, “So warm.”

“Abbacchio,” (Y/N) sang as she turned her head again, reaching her lips to find him. As their mouths smashed into each other, the older mafioso snaked his free hand past the elastic of her skirt and underwear, letting his fingers slip through her slit.

Abbacchio moaned against her lips as he felt how wet she was, his brain short-circuiting as he felt her buck into his hand. With his fingers damp with her slick, he spread her apart, gently prodding her tiny nub with the point of his middle finger.

When he touched the spot she immediately jerked forward and gasped into his mouth. The man grinned, wrapping his free arm around her waist and hoisting her up. For stability, Abbacchio nudged his thigh under her ass, elevating her so he can reach farther. As her feet dangled against the floor, (Y/N) rolled her head back to rest against Abbacchio’s chest once again as he continued his ministrations. He slowly rolled the pad of his finger against her nub, hyperfocused on every sound or move she made. When she turned to gaze at his face, her eyes brimmed with tears from pleasure, and she found that the calculated look in his eyes wasn’t far off from how he looked on missions.

Determined and ready to please.

“A-Abba…I need you inside,” She whispered, rolling her hips against the man’s hand needily.

The man chuckled, running his finger up and down her silky folds; tantalizing.

“Abba? How cute,” He teased her lightly before pressing his lips to her jaw. His finger rolled against her sensitive clit, and as he picked up to a pace that labored her breath, he didn’t stop.

“S-Sorry,” She mumbled lazily, shutting her eyes as the coil of pleasure in her core grew tighter and tighter.

“No apologies,” He reminded, his deep voice soothing her further into her nearing climax.

“I like you calling me that. Don’t stop,” Abbacchio hummed, noticing how the woman in his arms grew silent, apart from her heavy breaths. With her eyes screwed shut, he watched in curiosity as her face began to contort with satisfaction, the pools of her ecstasy flooding every inch of her system. She mewled his name, shuddering as the waves of her orgasm hit her over and over again.

Until he couldn’t draw any more from the woman, Abbacchio pulled his hand away, rolling his aching wrist. As (Y/N) attempted to regain the remnants of her brain from the floor after cumming so hard, the man silently slid his wet digit into her mouth, letting her taste herself.

She moaned on his finger, blindly reaching behind her back to touch him too.

Her smaller hands clumsily reached to cup his erection and he had to bite back a sharp gasp. He hadn’t realized how hard and sensitive he had become after being so focused on (Y/N).

“Please Abba,” She whined, moving her hands back around to slide her skirt and panties down to her knees, “I need you.”

Abbacchio licked his lips, silently realizing he had kissed most of his lipstick off and onto her skin. For a moment he just had to admire the waxy marks that adorned her.

As he gazed down, he groaned at the sight of the woman’s bare ass as she sat on his thigh. When he pulled one cheek to the side, he felt his mouth water at the sight of her lower lips stretching, revealing her glistening hole. She was unbelievably wet.

“You want my cock so bad, stellina?” He cooed, shifting to finally release his cock from his dark pants. He hissed as his length slapped her wet slit, causing her to arch her spine.

“YesYesYes–I need you Abba. I need you so bad,” (Y/N) cried, as tears of frustration, pleasure, and feelings all came to the surface.

Abbacchio had to pause for just a second, hearing the desperation in her voice. It felt as if he could hear her clearly for the first time.

There had always been more to their friendship that he feared to reveal. Opening up made people vulnerable. It got people hurt.

Trusting someone else, and having them trust you back took a lot of bravery.

While it had taken him this point to realize this about (Y/N), he somehow felt a little calmer in regard to everything that happened today.

With a huff of laughter, he obliged the woman, sliding his head against her slit. When he nuzzled his face against hers, he hummed against her cheek.

“Kiss me,” He requested softly, voice raspy with nerves.

When she turned to gaze up at him, she blinked her blurry eyes to focus in on the sincere look in his eyes.

She leaned in and kissed him without a word, smiling into his lips.

As she did so, Abbacchio guided himself into her hole, pushing through her lower lips slowly. He could feel her tense in his arms, and as he rubbed his fingers up and down her stomach as he pushed deeper, he lulled her back to relax.

She shuddered as she felt his length hit the end of her vaginal opening, reaching to press her forearms against the closet door for further stability. (Y/N) whimpered at the fullness, rocking her hips to test the man’s reaction. Abbacchio groaned, wrapping an arm loosely around her neck as he rested his chin on her shoulder. As pleasure spiked his nerves into overdrive, he pulled back to offer the woman a strong stroke.

(Y/N) moaned his name once again, her sensitive gummy walls squeezing against his length so perfectly snug.

“Please,” She groaned, rocking her hips in time with his slow, almost restrained, thrusts.

“A-Ah, (Y/N) fuck,” The man whined, his orgasm already building in his core, waiting for release. He unconsciously picked up the speed of his thrusts, drowning out the sound of the obscene slaps of skin-on-skin to focus on what (Y/N) was saying.

“Faster,” She began to repeat, her already sensitive core once again building with the pressure of another orgasm. She could feel it coming quicker than the last.

Abbacchio had no objections to her request as he allowed himself to chase his finish. He moaned in her ear, trying to conceal more sound as he bit his lower lip furiously. It all just felt so fucking good.

She felt so fucking good.

(Y/N) released a shaky gasp from her chest, curling her legs slightly as another orgasm came crashing down on her system. She held her breath as much stronger, more sensitive waves came over her, the continuous stimulation of Abbacchio’s dick inside her making her want to scream.

Overcome with exhaustion and overstimulation, she knew that Abbacchio’s arms were the only thing keeping her up as he inched closer and closer to release.

The man whimpered out her name repeatedly, hugging her body closer as she could only babble out incoherencies and curses.

He came inside of her with one final thrust, groaning loudly as (Y/N’s) spent hole milked his seed. He shuddered as his orgasm rippled through him, his vision seeing spots until he came back to earth.

The two mafiosos fell silent as their bearings were regained, sanity returned and breathing regulated. The tiny closet felt even warmer after their fun, and Abbacchio was in dire need of water. As he held (Y/N), who looked like she was about to snooze in his arms, he nearly moaned at the sight of her.

She was glistening with sweat, her hair frizzed and her cheeks flushed. A weak sigh escaped her as Abbacchio finally pulled out his softening cock, stuffing it back into his pants.

“Are you okay?” He asked with concern laced in his voice. The woman in his arms turned and nodded slowly at him, offering her usual soft smile.

Every inch of her body felt heavy like lead as she peeled Abbacchio’s arms off of her so she could stand on her own. She felt wobbly and graceful like a newborn deer, gathering her bunched-up panties and skirt to pull them over her spent pussy.

Abbacchio held a hand to his mouth, feeling his face grow hot again. She still had his cum inside of her.

While he felt arousal gnaw at him with revitalized energy he pushed it down, reaching for the woman’s shoulders to awkwardly turn her to face him.

They were still in that tiny ass closet, after all.

“(Y/N),” He said firmly, “Are you okay?”

The woman reached up, running her palm against his cheek. Her all-smiley demeanor after sex was endearing to him. It made him wonder if something more would come out of all of this. As he leaned into her touch, she giggled.

“I nodded,” She reminded him, using her calf muscles to bring her to the tips of her toes. She kissed the man, and he returned it.

“I know,” He whispered as he pulled away, leaning his nose against hers for a moment, “I just wanted to make sure.”

There was something Abbacchio wanted to say to (Y/N) as he fully pulled back to get a good look at her. She was beautiful, even in this tiny closet and in his arms. While words formed in his brain, he realized that his throat was caught, like his mind and body did not want to cooperate with him.

While he couldn't speak his mind now, he did know one thing for certain. After they were out of this closet, he would invite her to an actual date, if she allowed him to. Given his unconventional nature to most things, he thought he could at least treat her to something nice after such a shit show of emotions, tears, and cum.

When the two could hear a loud commotion coming from outside, it was as if both their hearts dropped to their asses at the same time. One of them had to have broken a record over how fast they cleaned themselves up to some level of normalcy. Once they both approved their looks, Abbacchio leaned back against a wall to give (Y/N) space. She followed, leaning against the opposite wall as the sounds of arguing became even clearer. This time, the pair could hear Bucciarati’s stern voice in the mess, and as they heard the tell-tale sound of Sticky Fingers zipping the door open, both mafiosos held their breath.

As the door was pulled aside, Bucciarati peered inside with his hands on either side of the now open closet, his blue eyes riddled with concern.

“Are you two alright?” He asked worriedly, reaching out a gentle hand to help them out.

He reached for (Y/N) first, too distracted and worried over them both to notice the true nature of their dazed expressions.

When he reached to pull Abbacchio from the closet next, the tall mafioso could see the shiny purple eyes and dark hair of Narancia peeking over Bucciarati’s shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“Where did your lipstick go?”